


Torn

by RenaLanfordGirl (LadyArrowhead)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:25:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyArrowhead/pseuds/RenaLanfordGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An entry for the Dragon Age Reverse Big Bang 2013. As the templar Carver finds himself in a clash between mages and templars he begans to reflect on his relationship to his twin Bethany who died 7 years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost

He tasted ashes on his lips but didn’t even make a face. Kirkwall was burning, the screams of citizens, mages, demons and templars were echoing in his ears and giving him a headache. He was surprised how calm he was in a situation like this but then he remembered all the trouble he had gotten in before joining the order. 

“That is just insane! They have blown up the chantry. They are completely losing it.”, Vhera whispered next to him while they were marching towards the next room. They had joined the Templar Order together and had been partners since, finding comfort in the canticles and stanzas. 

“Anders has blown up the chantry.”, Carver quietly continued while he seemed to hear the echo of the Champion’s voice another time. He was not surprised that his sister was here and yet he was not surprised that it was him fighting on the other side. Mages and templars – what a wonderful cliché they must make. 

“And he was a mage and now you see what shit they are doing up here. The sooner we have gotten through this Right of Annulment the better.”, Carver’s companion leaned against the wall, gesturing him to be silent before she would open the door next to her position. He heard people talking quietly, someone was crying and begging for mercy to the Maker.

Vhera nodded before she burst through the door, her daggers reflecting for a breath the fear in their opponents’ eyes. Carver followed, fighting back to back with her. Two grown-up mages, probably enchanters, tried to protect three little children that were clinging to each other and tried to hide behind one of the beds. He and Vhera saw them nevertheless. The enchanter right before him, a man who would be about his sister’s age, did not back down. Even now, as he seemed not able to cast a spell, he tried to defend himself with just his wooden staff. 

Carver struck him down nevertheless. It was something he had learned even before he was a templar, even before he was fighting at Ostagar – many mages were physically weak. He felt a weird ache in his chest, similarly like being stabbed, but when he looked down he did not find a wound. It must have been because he thought of her again. Thinking of her always made him feel like he had already died.

“Carver, look ou-“, Vhera tried to warn him but voice broke within a breath. Turning around he saw the other enchanter trying to hold himself on his feet. Vhera however had died, her mouth was still open as if she were to scream any second, her eyes filled with shock – her body torn in the middle. 

“I will not let you win this…”, the enchanter coughed, sweat running down his face, _“You are not getting away with that.”_

Bethany stood next to him, her hand gently on his shoulder as if she were to stop him. 

Carver blinked – and of course she was gone. His twin had died years ago. Slowly he walked towards his opponent which now tried to walk away from him, backwards, but could not even do that without falling.  
 _“You can’t keep casting forever._ ”, he said but felt as if _Bethany would be just next to him again – and instead of offering a sword to end the pain she was offering a hand to help him get up._

What was happening here? He had finally found a place, a cause, something to fight for. And in all those years he had never even said a word about him missing her. He had remained quiet, because he knew that was best, he knew that the dead should be along each other and not in the memory of the living. 

“ _Please, don’t hurt him.”, one of the children whispered. Carver turned around and felt as if he would see his sister like he remembered her most of the time – with golden eyes and long, black braids, with a shy smile and the wish to help others that was glistening on her face._

Was he losing it, too? It must be this way for his hand began to shake and while he had been determined to kill that man just a moment ago he hesitated.  
What, and that was what bothered him most, because he did not want to think about it, he did not want to look back at the past that did not matter at all, what would she have done?


	2. Cracked

Very often Carver had laughed about all the different rumours he had heard about being a twin. Twins often thought the same – myth. Twins looked the same – myth. Even at 7 years of life he had already been able to be sarcastic. So when someone asked him, if they really were twins he would answer “No, actually I’m 5 years older – I thought that was obvious.” Most of the time people glared at him for that answer but he himself was amused by it.

 

If one had asked him about his opinion regarding the twin cliché his answered would have been: Twins were siblings, however they could share much more together than other siblings as they grew, learned and explored the world together.

 

This was what described him and his sister Bethany best. She was a shy, timid girl, hat loved to smile and gather flowers for her mother. He on the other hand loved to question everything, to explore the fields of Lothering and to play with swords while his sister Marian had some weird lessons about something that only concerned adults with his father. He did not really mind. Adults were just weird and stupid to him, too complicated in their way of thinking.

 

“Are you crying again, Beth?”, he often asked her when she was angry at him for cutting off her doll’s hair, which was actually because he had tried to surprise her, she had pointed out that she loved her sister’s short her – how should he have known that doll’s actually where not able to grow their hair back, or for pulling pranks on her.

 

Bethany just shook her head, blushing like a tomato, and afterwards just ignored him before he apologized to her. To him she was never shy – they had learned to walk and to speak together and after all still shared a bed because their little house was too small to have enough space for another one. You had to get along.

 

„Here I got you something, okay?“, he whispered and kneeled down beside her. Beth turned away her head, clearly angry at him. Anger could turn her into someone who was difficult to get along with. Maybe they actually were very much alike – Carver just found more reasons to be angry than her.

 

“It’s from the chantry – a red scarf with blue symbols on it. See, that’s the sun. And there are the flames.”

 

Slowly she turned back to him, glancing at the red piece of cloth he held out towards her. “I’m really sorry about being an idiot once again. Now please stop crying, okay Beth?” She took the piece of cloth from him and put it around her neck. It was way too huge for a small girl but she did not care. It would become one of her most treasured pieces.

 

“You aren’t an idiot, Carver.”, she grinned, moving the tears away from her cheeks with a thoughtless gesture, “You act from your heart. You don’t think and that’s really good. Andraste acted from her heart, too, you know.”

 

He got along so much better with her than with Marian. She understood him, better than he could understand himself. And sometimes Carver thought he could understand Bethany more than her parents and Marian, who never saw any fault in her. She had a good heart and loved to help but she was very easy to hurt and to make angry. She acted like him based on emotion but because she was so tender her affords ended better than his.

 

If they would remain together, so he had thought, they would improve. They would balance out because they were twins and twins where meant to improve together.

 

Yet destiny had planned another course for them, a huge difference that, to Carver, seemed to plant a wall between the two of them.

 

Two months ahead she had approached him, showing him her then so beautiful and clean hands, “You know…sometimes they are tingling and then they feel really hot. Do you have that, too?”

 

He had shaken his head, “Maybe you just need to wash them.”, he had answered and received a sisterly blow on his shoulder. Yet week after week and later on just everyday she would approach him, and only him, to complain about the warm feeling in her hands again.

 

One night she was shivering in her sleep and kept him up the whole time. “It burns…”, she whispered, “ _It burns so much.”_

He shook her gently, trying to wake her, when he realized how warm she felt. Was she getting sick? “Bethany, please, wake up.”, he asked, his blue eyes openly showing how worried he was. His sister just continued to whisper, her voice shaking, but she stayed asleep.

 

Within minutes he was up, knocking on the door to his parents room. His father opened it after a while. Malcolm Hawke was the tallest person Carver ever knew, even when he was tired right now, he seemed not to shrink but only to grow taller.

“Do you have troubles sleeping?”

 

“No, Dad. But Bethany…she is really weird today. I think she is sick.”, Carver explained when he noticed a weird smell. It reminded him of that one time when Marian had tried to cook but utterly failed at it.

His father however paled at the smell of it and rushed to their room – not a minute too late. The straw bed on which his sister was sleeping had begun to burn. Bethany screamed in pain, hugging her shoulders while the flames began to feed through the house.

 

His father grabbed him by the shoulder – only then it was that Carver realized he had already attempted to run towards and get her. “Dad, we need to do something!”, he screamed, trying to reach out for her, while his father’s grip around his shoulders tightened.

“Dad, let me go I HAVE TO HELP HER!”, he panicky uttered, pushing all his weight against his father’s hand.

 

“I already am.”, Malcolm said calmly and stretched the hand out towards her. At the places where the flames had been burning a second ago, hot steam began to rise and soon the fire was put out. Bethany was holding her hands, weeping like the small child she was. His father slowly walked up towards her and sat down beside his sister, slowly holding out a hand.

“Can you show them to me? I can make the pain go away.”

 

Yet Bethany didn’t react. It was as if she did not see him. So Carver followed his father, his steps way more insecure than his.

“Bethy?”, he asked, his voice shaking. His sister looked up, the usually-cheerful sparkle in her eyes had disappeared and instead he could see fear.

“Stay away…I could hurt you.”, she sobbed, her small shoulders trembling in fear.

Carver stretched out his hand similar to his father. He knew he was afraid, he had just witnessed what she could do – magic.

 

Magic was what the chantry had warned them about. Magic was what could kill everyone in an instant. Magic was why mages had to be locked up in the Circle – it was to protect the others from the damage they would cause.

But here was Bethany, his sweet twin sister, that couldn’t hurt a fly. He was afraid of magic, Carver knew that, but not afraid of her. Never of her.

“You won’t. I know you won’t.”

 

And within a second she was in his arms, crying and apologizing again and again.

 

-

 

What 7-year-old Carver had learned that night left him speechless. His father was a mage, too, and so was Marian. When he had fallen in love with his mother his father had decided to run away with her so they could be free. Marian had shown signs of magic only a few months ago, just right after her twelfth birthday. Yet this, according to his father, was normal because many mages would show signs of magic the first time when they grew into adults.

 

Bethany was a special case. His father was sure that her magic would remain sleeping now for a few years before it would show again.

“Yet, I have to teach her. It is better this way – we will be prepared then.”, he had said, with comforting pat on Carver’s shoulder, while mother was taking a look at Bethany’s hands. Once they had been very pretty, girl hands Carver used to call them, but now they were filled with scars and burns.

 

“Maybe you have received the gift of magic, too.”, Malcom pondered and granted him a friendly smile, “Then you will be my three magical children.”

Carver however was not sure about that. Actually, he was sure that he did not have any magical abilities at all. Carver was Bethany’s twin after all, so shouldn’t he naturally developed those powers alongside her? To him it made sense that way.

 

“Dad?”, he therefore asked, and though knowing that his mother and Marian were still busy with Bethany, he lowered his voice.

“Will you still love me even if I am not a mage?”

 

Malcom blinked in surprise, his eyes focusing on the small, somewhat bulky boy, who was watching his sisters with a gaze mixed of worry and sorrow. He was biting his bottom lip while lost in thought, something Malcom had also witnessed Bethany doing.

“Carver, your mother and I love you for who you are. What does it matter if you are a mage or not? You are our son, our big boy.”

Malcom chuckled and gently ruffled his son’s hair. “When I’m gone you have to keep an eye on all of them, okay? You’ll be the only man in the house.”

 

Carver moved a bit back, pouting, “You know …that is not really comforting.”

 

And it really wasn’t. Because to Carver it felt not like he was the one who was normal. It felt more like he was the weird one in his family.


	3. Split

“ _What are you looking at me? I’ve been running since Ostagar.”_ ,Carver exclaimed, angry that once again he had been overruled by having Marian taking responsibility. He felt like that even thought they were on the run for a simple reason – Marian had not been at Ostagar. It would have been his responsibility for he had seen Darkspawn way before all of them.

 

He had to admit that his sisters were more than capable of fighting and did more damage than he did. Bethany was able to protect mother from getting hurt with her healing spell and could inflame enemies that came closer to them. Marian commanded something called Entropy and was more than skilled in close-combat with her staff. He himself could defend himself with his sword very well. They made a good team.

 

“Do you even know where we are going?”, he asked but earned a cold glare from his mother.

“Listen to your sister, Carver. Marian knows what she is doing.”

 

He fought the urge to roll his eyes down, knowing it was not the time for such fights. Bethany was already exhausted; she was not used to such exercise as he and his sister were and so was his mother. They were too slow, both him and Marian knew it. If they would not manage to go faster, they’d die.

 

The path led them to an open field, where they encountered a redheaded warrior and her husband, a templar of all things. Carver did not pay attention to him, all he wanted was get away from here as soon as possible.

 

“He’s a templar.”, his sister whispered, her eyes showing even more fear than he had seen before, “As soon as we are out of this he might as well get me to the nearest Circle…”

He layed a hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.

“I would never let that happen. And…remember Ser Bryant in Lothering? Or Sister Leliana? They both knew what you are and still you are able to walk around freely with me.”

 

She nodded, leaning a bit closer to him for a moment, “Not all templars and sisters are religious-fanatics but it is easier to think of them like that. Maybe that is why they and mages do not get along – both of us think of it as easier to exaggerate regarding the other party.”

 

He grinned slightly, “We should write this down tonight. It sounds like wisdom to me.”

 

They never did. Marian had led them towards a cliff when they heard the scream of the ogre. Carver drew his sword, coming closer to his older sister. Marian often needed some time before she began to cast a spell and he would be there to defend her, leaving mother in Bethany’s care.

 

He had never seen such a monster before and felt as if he had frozen on the very place he stood at. The horns of it reminded him of demons, and it was tall, so tall, that Carver felt sure that this was over.

 

Only then he heard Bethany scream. A flame slashed at the ogre, the beast screamed in pain and reached for his sister. She always had looked small and fragile to him but now it seemed even more like this. She was slammed to the ground by it, another scream of panic escaping her.

 

“Bethany!”, his mother sobbed and Carver was just quick enough to grab her so she would not run to her. She wasn’t moving, a pool of blood forming right where she was lying.

“My poor baby, no, no!”, his mothers voice was fading.

 

The world grew silent around him, his movements mechanical. He defended his mother but he could not see her, his view had become blurry. In his mind he saw Bethany dying all over again, a stab of shock going through his heart every time she touched the ground.

Not her. She was always gentle and always nice, she was so much better in being a good daughter, a good sister, a friend than he was.

 

And she had been the only friend he ever had.

 

When the battle was over he remained silent, while his mother shook her as if that would make her alive again. The only thing he did was removing the scarf he had once given her. Then he turned, not looking at her corpse again.

 

-

 

“Carver, about Bethany-”

 

“What about her? I do not see how she is connected to me wanting to serve in the city guard.”, he grunted, receiving a glare from Aveline. He was stating the truth, though. He did not talk about her, he never mentioned her. It was easier for him this way.

 

No one ever asked Marian about her. She was left alone with her thoughts. No one ever asked Aveline about Wesley. So why was it people would constantly refer to him, beg him for information? She was dead. She’d never come back to life again.

 

“I think you are doing this to distract yourself from it.”, she answered. What a wonderful thought, especially said by her. He saw how much she suffered and he could understand her better than she might have thought.

 

Bethany had been the person he asked when he had a problem, she had been allowed to give him her opinions. He did not want to talk to Marian or to Aveline not even to his mother. They weren’t the people he needed.

 

The person he needed was gone. And if he wanted at least to do something good, something that would make him feel steady that was his own business.

 

“I want to do this for myself, Aveline. You are the one mentioning her, not me.” Of course he was not accepted. He was a person of shadows, while Marian and Bethany had been light.

 

-

 

He did not feel whole. Actually, he felt like he half of himself had vanished. Too often he thought about what Bethany would do. When they found out about that Ser Carver, the templar who had been friends with his father, he had wished to talk with someone about it. It did not work with Marian.

 

No matter what he did, he seemed not to reach her. Magic had been enough to tie his sisters together and help them form a bond he had been so jealous of. He did not mean to hurt Marian, he meant to help her – the words in his mouth just came out all wrong.

 

_It is my fault she died. I should have died that day, I should have died when the ogre attacked mother and not you._

 

Thinks might have turned out more different then. Marian let him go along on her adventures but sometimes at night he would have thought what would happen if she were in his place.

 

She would have gotten along with Anders. Ridiculous, broken Anders. Carver knew how a man looked who was about to fall apart, he saw one whenever he looked inside a mirror. Isabela and Varric would have cherished her. Fenris…well, on that he was sure, that even Fenris would have somewhat liked her. He liked him. Fenris had a clear opinion to Carver and from what he had heard from the former-slave it was more than justified.

 

And Merrill? Oh, she would have loved her, thought not as much as he did. He knew about the blood-magic but Merrill seemed so pure to him, that he could not stop himself from admiring her. Despite all her purity she was so determined in her decision and so precise. She was not a little girl, though many people treated her like one.

To him, Merrill was so much more.

 

The days he was allowed to spent with them were days of comfort but with a bittersweet taste. He knew, after all, that they were not his friends. _They were Marian’s_.

 

He began to seek out places where Bethany would have gone whenever he was alone. Helping his mother at her errands, though she herself was way too clingy for him. Leandra had lost a daughter and planned on not losing her other two children, even if they were already grown up.

 

The most comfort Carver found in the chantry. One of the brothers, a man called Sebastian, had begun to talk to him whenever he entered. The comfort Carver was seeking for was the one Sebastian had found within the sanctuary of Andraste. In these hours the thought of joining the templars had appeared for the first time. It was a way to be useful and wouldn’t Bethany have done that, too?

 

When Marian abandoned him and walked into the Deep Roads along with Fenris, Isabela and Varric, he decided to join at last. It felt like a way to be good again, despite his sister having been mages. Ser Carver himself had been able to help mages. So, if he could be another Ser Carver he might be able to do the same.

 

Why then was it, that he did not feel to be whole-heartedly at it? Maybe it was because a part of him still was near Lothering at the corpse of his other half.

 


	4. Broken

His days belonged to prayers. He never would have thought that the chant of light could be so relaxing and yet need so much concentration. The order gave him the stability he had lost when Bethany died.

 

Marian and him hadn’t talked for a long time. Sometimes she inquired how he was and whenever he saw a glimpse of her, a mixture of joy and anger ran through his veins. The Champion of Kirkwall did not have much time for her brother and he was glad for that.

 

Vhera spent most of the time with him, which made it difficult for Carver to have an eye on Merrill, Anders’ or his sisters’ activities. Too often they were in the Gallows instead, taking care that none of the mages of the Circle would try to escape.

 

“The Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter are constantly fighting. Whenever you encounter them together you can be sure it will not end pretty.”, Vhera whispered while she was cleaning her daggers., “I’m telling you, this shit is serious, these are no mere quarrels. The mages are up to something.”

 

He could not help but agree. The crimes regarding blood magic had been already of a great number but within his seventh year in Kirkwall they had increased, almost tripled. The city of chains was cursed it seemed. Merrill had had a good reason for seeking the assistance of a demon, to her it had been justified.

 

That just could not be said regarding all those mages, could it? Even in desperate times Bethany would not have succumbed to the temptation. He was sure she would have made a role-model as a circle mage. With her at his side the First Enchanter might have realized that his protest would end fruitless.

 

“I don’t know why they are like this. They should remain nice and quiet and nothing will ever happen to them. We are here to guard them.”, Carver agreed, ignoring the soft stench in his heart he felt while saying these words.

 

“Those damn apostates. Don’t they know that what they are doing makes it worse for the others in here? The Knight-Commander has given orders that even seem to me rather cold-hearted. If the First Enchanter would just shut up…”

 

“He never will.”, he reminded him of Anders in that way who never gave up on his cause no matter how desperate it seemed and his father, Malcolm, who had taught him to never give up how desperate a situation seemed. Was this circle what he meant? Had it been as tough as it was by now?

 

Vhera patted his shoulder softly, “Don’t look so grim. We templars are here to keep the balance between mages and non-mages. We are here to protect. To protect others from magic and mages from themselves. That’s why we joined, remember?”

Carver had been friends with Vhera for a while by now and this was the reason why. Her reason had been much more clearer than the ones of most templars. She had a cousin who was in the Circle in Starkhaven and was in her views closer to him than Marian because she could sympathize more with him.

 

When Knight-Captain Cullen called for them, they left their post immediately. Nightfall had already begun and the stars where shining almost mockingly down on them. Cullen was someone Carver did not really understand.

 

He had first met him when he was still living with his sister. Cullen had clearly shown a disgust regarding magic but lately he had seemed to doubt it. More often he remained silent, when he had usually started to remind the recruits, that mages are not like him. His past was rumoured, some people said he had went berserk after the Massacre in the Circle of Ferelden, others denied it.

 

“Hawke, Sutton with me.”, Cullen explained, while calling out the names of the others. Carver and Vhera positioned themselves next to him and accompanied Knight-Commander Meredith to the place where the destiny of Kirkwall would be decided.

 

-

 

The chantry lay in ashes and Anders was the reason why. No matter how often he thought back regarding that event, he could not grasp the thought. Anders could not have done it. That would make no sense.

 

_There can be no compromise my ass!_ Carver bit his bottom lip,while silently following the others back to the templar barracks. He had destroyed the last straw that had held Kirkwall together and he hoped that Marian would punish him for that, kill him, if she thought it was right. How could she possible have supported that decision?

 

He was horrified and so where many others. Almost none of them spoke and those, who did, cursed Anders and all the mages for what they had started. Vhera belonged to those people, her shoulders trembling with every step she took. He had never seen her so vulnerable before, usually she had seemed tough.

 

There seemed to be no air around them, just smoke and blood. Every one of them knew what the Knight-Commander would call for. Just at that very moment her voice, cold and yet so full of decision and emotion, echoed through the halls of the barracks.

 

“It is time to give those mages what they have asked for. We have been waiting patiently, waiting and enduring their mocking gestures and talks. We, the templars, have tried to silence them with words and patience but all our talks seem to have been only empty words to them. I know that you have spent months and years with them, but let me remind you of something – those mages aren’t people. Not any longer. You have now seen what they are capable of. We need to stop them.

Every single one of them is a danger to the city we have sworn to protect. I am calling the Right of Annulment right now. Kill them. Don’t let one of them live. You have seen what they did – they attacked _us. And it will be us who will win this war they have started._ ”

 

She had continued to give them orders, assigning them to hallways. She had allowed the mages to prepare themselves and that was more than fair.

The rest had happened just now. The memories he had seen once more stormed away from him, the taste of ashes and the screams getting clearer and clearer. He once again saw the children hide, saw mages turn to abominations, demons slitting the throats of the comrades he had served with for years.

 

Vhera once again tried to warn him and once again lost her life. And there she was once again, the figure of Bethany guarding those he had been ordered to kill.

_What would you do, sister? Would you fight along the mages or the templars if you had seen what I have seen?_

 

His sword still in his hand, he walked even closer to his opponent, pointing at the neck of him. One move and he would die.

 

“Please, don’t hurt him.”, one of the children whispered. The one that had looked like Bethany but now looked like someone else. _Bethany’s spirit was standing next to him, shaking her head_.

 

She would have fought with the mages and so Ser Carver would have. He himself had joined to protect them. What Anders had done had been insane but those where children and old people. Anders had not broken into the Gallows, he could never have communicated with those within. Those people where innocents, no matter what the Knight-Commander claimed.

 

His sword fell to the ground, the echo mockingly singing of his defeat. “Forgive me.”, Carver whispered, not knowing if he was talking to her or to the mage. His voice was shivering and it seemed as if a veil was in front of his eyes. He blinked, feeling it more and more difficult to breathe.

 

What had he done? Once again people had been dying because of him, over and over again. He was not good enough. He was not quick enough.

 

All those years he had not said a word regarding Bethany, the dead should be along the dead and not the living. Now he felt, like it would have been better to talk about her. Would Marian and his mother have forgiven him that he was at fault for this?

Would Sebastian have listened? Would Merrill have given him a word of comfort or Varric? Could he have gone back to Peaches? Or Vhera?

 

What did it matter? He would not reach for his sword, not turn. The Enchanter could kill him if he wanted, Carver did not care. A demon could enter, he did not care.

 

Joining the templars had felt so right to him. It had felt like a decision that made sense to him. Now…now nothing did.

 

Sobbing he hid his face in his hands, realizing that since the day his sister died he had been nothing but broken. The city that should have saved him just had torn him apart even more.

 


	5. Found

Do not cry.”

 

Merrill’s voice felt like attacks and not like warmth. The blood in his veins seemed to freeze. Slowly he turned towards her. She was standing next to Fenris of all people who politely had turned away and was not looking at him.

 

She stepped a bit forward, “Are you okay, Carver? Are you hurt? Is that why you are crying?”

 

 _More hurt than you think._ He did not want to talk to them. He wanted to die, to join the rest of his family. Marian would not be alone, she had friends who were with her. She still had people who cared for her. It was him who was all alone.

 

“You should get out of her. This place is crawling with templars and they will get you as well, Merrill.”, Carver’s voice was hoarse and shaking, only a shadow of the usually confident tone. Merrill ignored him, trying to lift his longsword.

 

“Hawke will not let that happen.”, Fenris whispered, which meant as much as him not letting that happen as well, “Get up. We’ve been looking for you all over this place.”

 

Carver frowned, “For me? Why should you be looking for me? You should be with Marian and-”

 

Merrill held his sword at him like it was the most natural thing in the whole world, “Hawke asked us to go look for you. When she heard you were still inside she got all panicked, but she also could not leave the Enchanter alone. So we volunteered and began to look for you and here we are.”

 

He felt more than moved by this. The feeling of ice was still present in his heart, but at the same time he felt a weird warmth beginning to burn inside him. She still cared for him, after all these years, after everything he had said to her? Marian had asked them to look for him and they volunteered?

 

“I’m a templar. I have to get back to Knight-Commander Meredith. It is my duty.”, he answered instead, taking his sword and slowing working himself back to his feet. Merrill looked at him in surprise, Fenris nodded in understanding.

“Let us at least get you out of this alive, Carver. If you do not wish to fight with us we respect it. Hawke however will only be able to rest if she knows that you are safe.”

 

They escorted him back to the entrance of the Gallows, the wide courtyard, in silence. Every step felt to him as if he were asleep, he did not feel the ground below his feet at all. Sometimes it still was as if Bethany was walking with them. When they passed some doors he seemed to see her standing within them, when they walked down the stairs she seemed to wait for them. He did not question it any longer.

 

Demons were running amok in here, his mind must have began to act a bit too much. He whispered a goodbye to Merrill and Fenris who hurried back to his sisters side while he placed himself next to Knight-Captain Cullen.

 

What he saw he did not like. The eyes of the Knight-Commander seemed to glow with almost insane enthusiasm, her hands were clutching the sword made of red Lyrium as if it was her reason to live.

 

_What would you have done, sister?_

Marian was standing next to her friends. While in his own ranks he saw signs of doubt, in the eyes of her friends he saw trust. What was duty if you could not live with the results of it?

 

“Knight-Commander Meredith”, he heard himself saying, “I am not going to fight against my own blood. The Champion is my sister and not my enemy. I cannot fight her, even if that means that I lose my place within the ranks of the templars. She’s my family.”

 

With that he turned his back to the Knight-Commander and walked to the Champion. Marian smiled thankfully at him; Varric whispered a “Finally coming to your senses, junior?” but the rest of them did not judge him. He stopped thinking about all the whens and what ifs at that time.

 

What Ser Carver, Bethany or anyone else would have done did not matter, though it seemed to him ,that their answers would not have been different from his. What he was doing mattered, however.

 

-

 

Meredith was the strongest enemy he ever faced. Again he had been thrown to the ground, right next to his sister, who was breathing heavily, but breathing nevertheless. Carver bit his tongue and cursed.

 

While getting on his knees, Carver began to touch the ground randomly, looking for his sword. Instead he felt a piece of cloth in his hands. In shock looked at it, afraid it could be the robes of someone who was hit by the attack. It was Bethany’s scarf he was holding, instead.

 

He had been carrying it – both as a good-luck charm and a reminder of his mistakes and faults. Carver stood up, ignoring the battle for a moment, studying the blue chantry signs that had made him buy it for her. If she really was at the Maker’s side she would watch over them by now, together with their parents, wasn’t it like this?

 

“You’ve been with us the whole time, Beth.”, he whispered, when Marian handed him his swords. She spotted the scarf in his hands and smiled, laying her hand on his for a moment as a gesture of trust, _when_ _Bethany placed her hand on top of the one of her sister._

 

_Carver’s eyes widened in surprise, even more when he saw that Marian had the same reaction as him. Both of them were seeing her clearly by now in her combat gear, the staff she had been carrying in Lothering tied to her back._

 

“ _I’ll always be.”, she smiled and vanished._

 

Carver and Marian stormed back into battle. It was the first time since Lothering that Carver felt like he was not alone.


End file.
